


House of Phoenix

by readbycandlelight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 18:39:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8457925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readbycandlelight/pseuds/readbycandlelight
Summary: Starting in the summer after the Second Wizarding War, Hermione Granger deals with the fallout of her memory-charmed parents, family secrets, and going back to Hogwarts for her final year without her two best friends by her side.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All rights go to J.K.Rowling.

**House of Phoenix**

**By Readbycandlelight**

 

**Chapter One**

 

_**The** **Granger Girl Goes Home** _

 

A lone young woman slowly walked along a sidewalk, passing rows upon rows of impeccably upkept townhomes in Hampstead Garden Suburb. A middle aged neighbor, who had just pecked his wife on the cheek and had come out to get into his car and start on his early morning commute into the heart of London, stopped his habitual routine, key poised at the car lock, and stared at the girl. He hadn’t seen a trace of her or her parents in months. Possibly even a year. That was the Granger’s girl, wasn’t it? Her hair was brown and, well, quite bushy, as the Granger girl’s had been.

 

The Grangers had always seemed like a nice family. The husband and wife had even stopped by round his house for afternoon tea a time or two a few years back. They had both been dentists, and the girl had been accepted to some prestigious foreign private school. Though he wasn’t so sure a foreign education had been good for the girl; there had always been something... _strange_ about her after she’d started going away for school. And this girl walking along the sidewalk most assuredly looked strange. She was waifish thin and only carrying a handbag with her, like she’d popped out of thin air onto the sidewalk of the quiet suburb. She passed him without looking away from a home in the near distance. Her eyes were big and brown and looked much too sad and haunted for a young girl her age.

 

His question about whether or not he was thinking of the right girl was answered as she slowly walked up the drive to 8 Heathgate. That had been the Granger’s home. Once she reached the front door, she rummaged round in the small purse for quite a while. Really, how many things could be in such a small purse that it would take her this long to find? Finally she gave a defeated sigh and took her hand out of the purse empty handed. She lost her key he suspected. So that meant the house still belonged to the Grangers. Well that was nice. He’d heard talk round the neighborhood that the Grangers had moved to some foreign country. So he supposed they weren’t complete expatriates if they’d kept their home in London. Good. He didn’t like expatriates.

 

The girl partially raised her hand again, her hand hovering near the doorknob but not touching it. She stayed like this for several seconds. She had her back to him, so he couldn’t see her facial expression anymore, but something about the way she peculiarly stood, made gooseflesh break out on his arms. It was as if -- as if she was trying to open the door without touching it...

 

And just like that the moment was over. The Granger girl grasped the doorknob, turned it, and the front door swung open. The girl disappeared inside the house with a final swish of her curly mane of hair.

 

The neighbor blinked several times. She must have forgotten that she’d unlocked the door before. Yes, that was it. By the looks of her wild, unkempt appearance and the tiny handbag, she must have gotten in the night prior with all her things and then been out all night. Scandalous! Whatever foreign country they had been living in had obviously made a little tart of her.

 

That’s what he’d tell himself and his family for many years, but deep down there would always be a part of him that thought he had witnessed something strange and perhaps even improbable...

 

Yes, a strange one indeed, he would always think whenever he saw the Granger girl.

 

____________________________________________________________________

  


The door creaked open almost like a groan, like it was protesting being in disuse for a whole year. A small part of Hermione almost wished she’d taken up Ron and Harry on their offer to come with her, but a bigger part of her felt relieved they weren’t with her. This was something she’d had to do alone. She’d done it all on her own when she’d wiped her parents memories after all. So she’d told Ron and Harry to stay at Shell Cottage with Ron’s family and help keep building the add-ons since the Weasley’s were moving in with Bill and Fleur to keep the family close at this time. Fred had been buried in a private Weasley cemetery that had been started there at Shell Cottage. Hermione took a deep fortifying breath and entered her home.

 

Everything was as it had been left a year ago, save for the thick layer of dust that now coated everything. Photos of a younger version of her and her parents on vacation in the south of France were still on the mantle, report cards pinned by magnets with all top marks were proudly displayed on the refrigerator, and her mother’s beloved copper cookware hung high from the cooking rack in the gourmet kitchen that her parents had remodeled 5 years ago.

 

Hermione’s purse absently slipped from her grip to puddle on the carpet as she made her way to the mantle. She picked up a picture of her smiling parents and traced the lines of their faces. A watery smile graced her lips as tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.  Emotions she had been trying to hold back flooded her as she stood in the silent house.

 

Her parents didn’t know who she was.

 

They were a world away from her in Australia, none-the-wiser that they even had a daughter named Hermione Granger. And right now she really wanted nothing more than fall into her mother’s arms and weep.

 

_____________________________________________________________________

 

Warmth next to her abdomen and purring is what woke her up. Hermione’s hands instinctively sought out her familiar in the darkness she now found herself in. “Crookshanks,” she scolded affectionately, “I told you I’d come back for you at Shell Cottage after I’d gotten back from Australia. What are you doing here?”

 

Even in the darkness she could see Crookshanks’ mysterious yellow eyes practically scolding her back. ‘You had come back from Australia hours ago,’ his eyes seemed to communicate. ‘And as much as I delight in chasing Pigwidgeon around, I knew my witch was back in England in your house and sad, so I came to you.’

 

Hermione hugged Crookshanks tightly to her, amazed that he had managed to get all the way from Shell Cottage to London in the span of maybe 7 to 9 hours from the looks of the pitch darkness out of the windows at 8 Heathgate. Crookshanks had always had an unexplainable knack for being in the right place at the right time, and she loved him dearly for it.

 

After a few minutes of petting Crookshanks Hermione realized how sore she was from laying on the ground. She had fallen asleep on the carpet at the foot of the hearth, the photograph of her parents lying next to her and Crookshanks. She’d been clutching it as she cried herself to sleep...

 

Gingerly, she got up with the photo frame in her hands. ‘Lumos,’ she intoned in her mind, and then the lights came flickering on in the house. Her orange, bandy-legged cat sagely watched her as she put the photo frame back on the mantle. He looked from the photo of her parents and then to her.

 

“No, I didn’t bring them back with me as I said I would, Crookshanks,” Hermione said quietly.

 

Crookshanks’ head slowly cocked to the side as if in question.

  
“I don’t want to talk about it, Crookshanks,” Hermione said sadly. “Just know that I think they’re better off where they are now. Looks like it’s just going to be you and me here from now on.”

"Meow," the orange cat said, and it brought Hermione a small bit of comfort.

 

TBC.


End file.
